fashionista_35

Four years ago this weekend (this day, really) I wrote the four thousand word proposal that became Adiós to My Old Life. Two weeks later, it had sold, exactly a year later, on July 4, 2006, it was released.

If you'd told me four years ago that I would be published in YA before adult fiction, I would've probably said, "Shyeah, right." If you would have told me two years ago, (immediately post-RITA, an unthinkable accomplishment in and of itself) that four years after selling my first book, I'd still be waiting to sell in adult fiction, I would've asked where you kept the funny mushrooms.

And of course, if, two years ago, you would have told me that I would have an editor solicit me to write a book, that I would sell into hardcover, and then sixteen months later, it would all be taken away, I would have accused you of being plain mean.

Yet...

*looks back at events of last four years*

All so, so weird.

And yet, this year, I'm essentially free. Perhaps that's the independence I'll be celebrating. Along with continuing my fight to become the writer I want to be.

Symptoms since last Thursday:

Ears- hurt

Sinuses- hurt

Nose- congested with a side of raw, no matter how many Puffs with Lotion I use

Lips- chapped

Tastebuds- in absentia

Fever- comes and goes. Luckily, been fairly rare.

Yet, being a whacked-out Virgo, I've been feeling guilty that we haven't been able to do any summerlike activities. When I mentioned maybe taking the rugrats to the community pool, I got threatened with bodily harm if I even thought about it too hard. All I intended was for them to cavort while I sat in the shade. Yeah... not happening. There are limp dishrags with more energy. So of course, I thought, "Maybe the beach tomorrow..."

Ha!

Two things- the Boy got sick last night although luckily his seems to have been a one-time stomach thingie and it's thundering and raining this morning, which, actually, does it make me a bad Mommy that I'm kind of joyful? This sort of weather makes me feel very calm and happy and actually makes me more productive.

I've got puppies sitting at my feet and I'm making good progress on the Carmen revisions when I'm not utterly out of my head on Sudafed. When I have been too out of my head to work, I've been (gently) shaking my head at Authors Behaving Badly, chapter 472.

Some people really need to stay away from social networking.

However, I want some Earl Grey but don't feel like getting up to make it. I need a Cabana Boy.

This week I started revising the Carmen manuscript (officially) for about the fifth or sixth time. Don't laugh-- I know this is nothing for a lot of people, but generally, I edit and revise so much as I work on an initial manuscript that by the time I'm done with the first draft it's more like a fifth or sixth draft. As a matter of fact, both of my published books were turned in, one editor-requested revision on each, and then done, so this is sort of a new experience for me. Anyhow, my new agent had some really great suggestions that didn't make me recoil in terror (best sign that she is just the Right Agent *g*). For obvious reasons, I hadn't had the heart to look at the MS in ages. Actually, until I started the agent search in May, I hadn't looked at the MS since I submitted it LAST May.

At any rate, where I find myself floundering a bit is in how well I know this manuscript. I lived with it for sixteen months as I worked with the editor at The House That Shall Not Be Named and even after not looking at it for a year, I know it like I know the back of my hand. I know these characters so well-- yet what my agent's asking for is a bit deeper characterization. And I know she's right. My thing now is in trying to find the balance between adding more characterization and not hitting the reader over the head with the Clue By Four. I'm just finding it insanely hard, because of how well I know the MS. I tried working on a blank document, but that didn't work so well. Apparently, I really, REALLY know this manuscript. In other words, it works better for me to have the original doc handy, which keeps me more aware of changes.

I just have this recurring nightmare of making all these changes, but nothing really changing. Or making sense. Or reading like a Dick and Jane book.

GAH.

New name- 1

Chapters condensed- 6 (into three, I think)

Words cut- 6860 (or thereabouts)

Darlings killed- Many, many, many

*pauses to mourn*

Perspective- Lost and presumably wandering somewhere along the Mother Road

Final word count (at this draft)- 81,223

Brain cells remaining- Uhhhhh...

Prayers that it doesn't suck beyond redemption- More than I can count

Draft #4- Done (as of 6:59 PM ET, 5/28/08)

And SO SHE DANCES is born.


Please, to send boyz and chocolate and a brayne and a pony...

It's proving to be near-impossible for us to come up with a title that has Carmen in the actual title that we really love more than chocolate. So we're going back to the drawing board. We're looking at just coming up with a cool title that reflects the story and then we'll have a subtitle that reflects the Carmen origins.

So, I've compiled some titles that appeal to me. Yes, I'm bogarting from song titles because I SUCK so at coming up with my own. So have at it. And of course, as usual, if you come up with something you think really reflects the story of a dedicated dancer who experiences her first love, joins a drum and bugle corps, suffers devastating loss and betrayal, and maybe in the end really discovers who she is and in the process rediscovers friendship and a possible future love, have at it.

Poll #1185648 Carmen Book Title redux
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

So, which title(s) d'you like? (Yes, you can choose more than one)

Remember? If the revisions didn't suck? These?




As for your Carmen revision, you've done such a great job this time around! There were so many instances when I literally exclaimed out loud: "Yes!"

*preens*

Heh. Heh heh heh heh heh.

And debg, be on notice, I will be on the lookout for anything that may potentially bop me over the head. And those shoes may just be Super Glued onto my feet. :-P

Thanks so much everyone for all your congrats and good wishes yesterday. I must say, it was quite an amazing feeling, overall, to be done and taking a deep breath and send the little bugger on its way to Lovely Editor (who proclaimed me a rock star—heh).

I had me a celebratory shower and even shaved my legs—woot! And had pizza (six cheese with Roma tomatoes, mmmmm...) And then I collapsed in bed with a book that wasn't mine! And the television! Double WOOOT.

(The Cabana Boys were too tired to do much of anything other than collapse *angles suspicious stare sartorias' way*)

Anyhow, in honor of the book being DONE, I'm going to maybe read some more. Hee! And of course, the paranoia is setting in, so I'll be waiting on pins and needles to hear what Lovely Editor thinks of it.

And because my darling amaliedageek was feeling cranky yesterday and made reference to Persephone with respect to the contrary weather in her neck of the woods, I thought I'd post a little Teaser... erm, Wednesday. It's Wednesday, right?

stephanielynch, I also thought of you when I wrote this section. *g*

Okay, anyhow.

From Whatever CARMEN'S title is going to be...
copyright 2008, Barbara Caridad Ferrer

**

She reached past me to the table while I rolled my eyes. "Oye, Mamacita, maybe now's not—"

"Tranquilate."

There was no escaping the woman when she had that determined aura going yet she had the nerve to be telling me to calm down? But again, she surprised me—instead of handing me the deck she simply turned it over and began thumbing through the cards, obviously looking for something. When she found it, she pulled it out, holding it out to me.

"¿Te acuerdas?"

I nodded and shivered, looking at the Death card, even though I know it didn't literally mean death, and in and of itself, it wasn't considered a bad card. Not a card one could easily forget—especially in this deck, the one with the lovers that she'd used for me so many months back. It was actually an incredibly beautiful, haunting card, depicting Pluto, god of the underworld, with Persephone. Now, you want to talk about a seriously dysfunctional relationship—

"It's the truest interpretation of this card, I think," she said, turning it so she could study the illustration as well. "This myth of love and transformation and rebirth. Of what can happen when one resists change."

She set the card down on top of the envelope with Jonathan's letter and went back to skimming through the deck. "After you went to bed that night, I pulled one more card."

I looked at the card she was showing me, my eyes going wide. "Oh come on, you are so making that up," I declared, cringing almost the second the words left my mouth because she was liable to smack me upside the head for dissing the Tarot… But seriously.

"Desire? Tristan and Isolde?" And their tragic, ill-fated, crazy-making love affair? Please. "Isn't that a little…" I chose my next word carefully, still aware of the possibility of getting smacked upside the head. "Convenient?"

"Do you know which card this is meant to represent?"

I shook my head.

"It is this deck's equivalent of the Chariot. Do you remember what that means?"

"Umm…"

She sighed. "Movement. Fate. Transition."

"And again, I repeat, convenient?"

Now I got the Evil Eye. "I can't control how you feel, m'ija. I'm just telling you what I saw. Whether or not you choose to believe or what you do with the knowledge, that's up to you. Remember—"

"It's just a guide," I finished in tandem with her. "For what, though?"

"That's up to you, too."

I AM DONE!!!!

DONE DONE DONE LIKE A DONE THING!!

Cue the fireworks and inspirational music and cabana boys, because baby, I. Am. DONE!

I hate my working title.

I just thought of one, but I don't know if it makes sense or if it just really sounds good to my exhausted brain.

Once, I Was Carmen

(Lovely Editor wants to really incorporate "Carmen" into the title—otherwise, I'd lobby hard for Roses In My Hands)

I'm hunting deadwines...

This is what I want this story to be. How I want it to make people feel.

Hello?

*echoes around empty blog*

We were told this was the place to be?

Anyone...?







Think we should just wait?

Um... bueno Barbara sent me to sing and dance for you. She said I was much more entertaining than she is at the moment...

That's about it.

I'm panicking. My stomach's in knots and I have a vicious migraine. I suspect that by tomorrow I'll be largely incoherent.

However, if I survive and the book doesn't suck, I'll reward myself with these:

But it's of the laughing variety.

Some time back I read a review of Adiós that criticized my depiction of Fabiana. That the villain of the piece also dressed like a cheap hooker and that it was a little too obvious and virgin/whore for their taste, since Ali dressed in such a conservative manner.

That's when I realized I'd screwed up. Because seriously, how Fabiana dressed had nothing to do with her being the villain. That was just a collateral bonus. Really, it had more to do with her burning desire to make it in the Latin entertainment industry where dressing like a cheap hooker is de rigeuer. I even wrote in a Venezuelan beauty queen who had highly questionable taste in clothing.

Case in point, the Billboard Latin Music Awards were held last night and televised on Spanish-language station, Telemundo. Because it's not as high profile an event as say, the Grammys or even the Latin Grammys, the press coverage isn't as thorough, but I have uncovered more than a few photos that support my assertion. Tons of ill-fitting satin and obscenely short skirts, and missing panels of material and enough silicone to raise the Titanic. The real shame of it is that I haven't been able to find any good photos of the female host in some of the numbers she sported throughout the show because Oh. My. God. Her outfits just... defied description. Seriously. They made the infamous Versace that J.Lo wore to the Grammys years ago:



look like a nun's habit.

ETA: HA!! Finally found a picture of the host, Aylin Mujica. While this isn't from last night, this is very similar in... shall we say, flavor to some of her get ups.



Admittedly, Latin women, we're not so much with the discretion and while there's a certain joy to be found in that, there are times you just want to say, draw back... just a little... please









There was even a tacky beauty queen, completely substantiating my theory!



Which is not to say that all of the outfits were terrible. There were some very pretty dresses last night. My favorite was this red number:



So... lesson learned. I should have populated Adiós with a few more tackily dressed women to show that how Fabiana dressed had nothing to do with her status as the villain. It just was. :-)

Back to my revisions where my Carmen character doesn't even come close to dressing like a cheap hooker.

That by 8:13, I'd had two cups of Sumatra and was on my first Diet Coke of the day?

I'm not sure I've ingested caffeine in quite this manner since college.

I just ruthlessly cut one of my very favoritist scenes. This was a scene I'd envisioned from the very first conception of the story and I just eviscerated it.

AUGH!

Which begs the question—at what point do you sacrifice flavor and atmosphere for pacing?

*sigh*

ETA: Okay, I'll post at least a snippet of the scene. Why not, right?

Set up—this is just one of the ways in which drum & bugle corps geeks pass the time on looooonnnnnng drives

***

As the bus shifted into gear and began slowly pulling out of the parking lot, a shrill, cab-hailing whistle drew our attention to the front where Raj was holding court over the entertainment unit. Still blew my mind, every time I stepped on this bus. It was unreal, all comfortable seats and roomy overheads and television screens every few rows with a killer sound system. Again, mad props to the viejitas and their love for the bingo, allowing us to travel in style.

"Music or movies, people?"

Squinting up towards the front, I could just tell he was waving around one of the Lord of the Rings movies.

"Por tú madre, Raj, please, no more Legolas," I yelled out, which earned me an elegant finger, but I was the one with the reinforcements as other voices chimed in with, "Yeah, save the movies for when we're driving through Iowa and corn fields for days."

"Fine, you cranky bitches—music it is." But he didn't actually give us any choices, quickly selecting a CD and slipping it in. Then proceeded to sit back and grin like an idiot as the opening strains of "Bohemian Rhapsody" flowed through the speakers and we all laughed our collective asses off.

Next to me, Jonathan was grinning as we watched Raj doing his best overwrought conductor routine, cueing one half of the bus, then the other, to sing along with the various parts. Even I joined in, even though my voice wasn't exactly what anyone would call lyrical, but then again, finesse wasn't exactly what we were going for here. This was loud, with a hefty side of dramatic, especially as we got to the operatic interlude, with its "scaramouche" and "fandango" and at the very end of it, that insane falsetto note that Jonathan, who'd been singing louder and louder, let loose with, hitting it perfectly, and sending me into a fit of hysterical laughter.

After that, it was total Wayne and Garth, with the headbanging and the air drumming and more laughter and Jonathan, holding me tight against him and looking so carefree as he smiled and joked with the guys around us, it made my heart turn over.

He looked down at me, face flushed all over again.

"God, I should've quit the horn bus way before this."

"You don't do this on the horn bus?"

"Oh, we listen to music, sure, but it's always some hardcore jazz or something seriously progressive and obscure. Or old corps shows—those are always popular. A lot of times, too, we'd play through the show on our mouthpieces—trying to get it ever more perfect."

"Are you serious?"

"It's more fun than it sounds."

Who was he trying to convince, me—or him?

"Really?" Not trying to sound judgmental—honestly. Especially with the way the smile was fading from his face.

"I thought so," he admitted with a shrug, ducking his head down, face turned away.

"Hey." I stroked my fingers through his hair and along his jaw until he looked at me again. "I used to think ten hour ballet rehearsals rocked. We're evolving."

His hand rose to trap mine against his cheek. "Couldn't do it without you."

Although his words made me go equal parts warm and fierce inside, I felt compelled to reassure him. "Sure you could."

Slowly, he shook his head, his lips brushing against my palm which had the effect of making me feel his words as well as hear them. "No, I really couldn't."

Because my editor, lovely thing that she is, also has a bent sense of humor, my revisions are due on April 15th.

So yes, I am in a Panic.

And the Girls in the Basement are having a grand time with the fragile state of my psyche. I woke up this morning to discover scrawled notes for the revision. You understand, I have no memory WHATSOEVER of having written these notes. Apparently, I wrote them at some point between 12:30 last night and 6 this morning when the alarm went off.

They were legible (if a bit larger than my usual print) and more to the point, they made sense.

Good thing I had a legal pad by the bed. Otherwise, the poor Hub might have awoken to find himself with notes scrawled across his forehead and unable to shower until I'd finished making the changes.

*sigh*

I fear for what the state of my mind will be like in a week's time.

For those what might wonder, I will be rather AWOL for foreseeable future.

Today and tomorrow I'll be in the Central Florida area participating in the Lake County Festival of Reading. Two Teen Talks at Libraries and one adult tea.

My rewrites on Carmen are due on April 15th. My darling editor has given me until the 21st, but I would really, really, really like to have them to her on the 15th.

Have I mentioned that said revisions are going slowly? So, in a plea to the Universe—

To the phone: Quit Ringing.

To the Prince of Darkness AKA Older Brother: The world does not Revolve Around You. Get over it.

To the phone: Quit Ringing.

To the Rugrats: I went through fifth and fourth grades once already. Once was enough.


Please, to send Cabana Boys, chocolate, and confidence that I am not sucking at regular intervals.

ETA: To continue inspiring me on my revisions, a video.

And yes, this song plays a huge part in Carmen. *g*

Pet peeve of the day: people who only ever show up on email loops to announce they've just posted the Best Guest Blog EVAR. Uncool.

Headline I never thought I'd see: Gilligan's Mary Ann caught with dope

Headline I wish I'd never seen: Tori on 'Stori': Spelling is spilling it all out in new book *bleah*

Finally, a Tuesday Teaser

Yes, I know it's Wednesday, but I didn't want to totally spam the flist. Besides, I didn't finish this until late last night and I'm so tickled by it—it's my revised first chapter for Carmen. Every time I take the slice and dice tools to something I've already sweated bullets over, I'm wicked nervous—I mean, what if I screw it up? But then, I take a second look and a third and I realize, you know, it may have been good before—it's better now.

( So She Dances )